Fiendfyre part II
by ashindk
Summary: Sequel to Fiendfyre. Harry has taken Draco and Scorpius in, but who burned down Malfoy Manor?


When Harry didn't have to go to work, he liked drifting slowly towards consciousness. Waking up at his own time had not been something he had ever been allowed at the Dursleys, and at Hogwarts, the dormitory had always been noisy in the morning, even on weekends. It had only been after he moved into Grimmauld Place that he had discovered the luxury of a lie-in.

The first thing he noticed this morning was the throbbing in his head, set off by the dim morning light, filtering through the curtains. His stomach was a queasy knot, and his mouth tasted like a small animal had crawled in there and died. In other words, he was having a hell of a hangover. He stretched out under the fluffy duvet and discovered that his muscles were sore, like they sometimes were after a particularly busy day at work. He weighed the pros and cons of going to the toilet for a hangover potion. On one hand, he would get rid of the headache and the queasiness. On the other hand, he would have to get out of bed and expose his poor feet to the cold floor. It was a difficult decision, but in the end, he decided that he should probably get up.

He shuffled towards the loo, not bothering to put on his slippers, or even his glasses, and roamed through the cupboard for the potion, thinking that he would down it and then get back under his lovely, warm covers. He found the right bottle and turned back towards the bedroom, but froze when he spotted his own blurry outline in the mirror. His hair was sticking up in all directions, but that was nothing new. It was the dark red marks on his neck that had made him stop dead in his tracks. Frowning, he lifted a hand to touch one of them, trying to remember how they got there, when he heard a child's voice from Teddy's room. A child's voice that didn't belong to Teddy.

"Father! Where are we? It's Christmas! Wake UP, Father!"

The events of last night came rushing back; Scorpius, Draco, the burning manor, the talking, and Oh Merlin! The kissing.

Harry downed the hangover potion in one go and hurried back into the bedroom. He quickly threw on a pair of reasonably nice jeans and the most high-necked jumper he owned; a dark green cashmere turtleneck that Hermione said 'brought out the green in his eyes', whatever that was supposed to mean. He slammed on his glasses, pocketed his wand, and tiptoed towards the door, listening for any indications of whether Draco and Scorpius had appeared in the hallway.

"Oooh, look! It's a toy broom! May I try it? Please!"

Scorpius' enthusiastic voice was muffled by the door to Teddy's room, so Harry found that it would be relatively safe to sneak by. He opened the door and snuck downstairs, careful to avoid the creaking floorboard on the landing. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to Draco. On the contrary, he really wanted to talk to him. Alone. That didn't really seem like a possibility at the moment, though. Instead he went down to the kitchen to find Kreacher.

Just as he'd expected, the old elf was puttering around, preparing for Christmas dinner while quietly muttering to himself.

"Good morning, Kreacher. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Master Harry. When is Kreacher to be expecting Mistress Andromeda and young Master Teddy? "

"They should be here around eleven. Kreacher, I know it's late and I'm sorry for the extra trouble, but we'll be having two more guests."

"Very well." Kreacher looked at him sternly, and Harry had to put a considerable amount of effort into not smiling.

"But Kreacher will not be serving the Weasley's Mud..._ggleborn_ wife. She was trying to be giving Kreacher a scarf last time. It was being a lumpy scarf. A lumpy, _Gryffindor coloured _scarf!" Kreacher wrinkled his huge nose, and his stern look turned into a scowl when he saw Harry shaking with barely contained laughter.

"Don't worry, Kreacher. It's not Ron and Hermione. Draco Malfoy and his son Scorpius are staying here for a few days. I know I should have asked you before I invited them to have Christmas dinner with us, but they didn't really have anywhere else to go..."

"It is being no trouble, Master Harry," Kreacher croaked. "No trouble at all. Kreacher is knowing his Mistress would be proud to be having Blacks in the house again. Proper, pure-blooded Blacks. Kreacher's Mistress would be weeping with joy! Mistress Cissa's boy and his young son!" Kreacher's toothy smile eerily reminded Harry of Dobby. It was as if Draco Malfoy setting foot in the house was the best Christmas present Harry could have given him. He let the old elf ramble on for a few minutes before clearing his throat. Kreacher looked at him sharply, as if he'd forgotten that Harry was even there.

"Will young Master Draco and his son be requiring breakfast? Kreacher could be making eggs, and bacon, and sausage, and black pudding, and toast, and beans, and tomatoes. Should Kreacher be making beans on toast for the littlest Malfoy? Young Master Draco was always liking Kreacher's beans on toast, when he was being a little boy." Kreacher sounded wistful. "Oh! Will Master Harry be having breakfast too?"

"I think just a few of those things would be more than enough, Kreacher. We don't want to spoil our appetites for Christmas dinner. I think all three of us will eat together. Do you have the stocking fillers for Teddy?"

"Yes Master Harry. The presents for the werew... the half-b... for Master Harry's godson is being over there." Kreacher pointed a long, bony finger in the direction of a small pile of presents, wrapped in bright paper.

"Great! I'll go put his stocking up then, before he gets here. I should probably conjure a stocking for Scorpius as well. Could you spare some extra sweets?"

Kreacher was busy muttering about Draco and beans on toast, but he waved a wrinkled arm towards the pantry. Harry left the kitchen with his arms full of sweets and toys, and made his way upstairs to the drawing room. He conjured an extra stocking to match the one Molly had made for Teddy when he was a toddler, and hung both stockings on the mantle.

He had just finished filling them, when he heard footfalls on the stairs. When he turned around, Draco was standing in the doorway. Scorpius was holding onto his hand and had his other hand fisted in his trousers... or, to be exact, the garment that used to be Harry's pyjama bottoms. Draco had done a good job at transfiguring them into a dark grey colour, and altering the cut, but the fabric that used to be flannel couldn't quite pass for the wool it was attempting to imitate. Draco looked sleep-tousled and a little uncertain, but his eyes were soft and he was smiling a little. Harry could feel the nervous lump in his stomach melt away and smiled back.

"Good morning, Draco. And Scorpius! Happy Christmas. I hope you both slept well?"

"Good morning, Harry. We both slept very well. At least until this little bundle of energy remembered that today is Christmas."

"Good morning, Mister Potter. Is that your racing broom? The one in the room I slept in? May I try it, please? It looks _wicked fast_!"

"Please, call me Harry. And no, it's not my broom. It belongs to my godson. He'll be here in a short while and you can ask him to let you try it. I'm sure he'd love to show you all his things."

"Okay, Harry. Father says we're having Christmas dinner here. With you and your teddy. And Father's Aunt Andromeda. Do you have a teddy, Harry? I have a teddy. Or.. no... maybe I don't have one anymore. It was in my room when the fire came. Oh! It says S-c-o-r-p-i-u-s on that Christmas stocking over there! Does that mean it's for _me?_"

Harry caught Draco's eye with a wry smile. Bundle of energy, indeed!

"Scorpius! Don't be rude to our host."

"But, I wasn't being _rude,_ Father. I just wanted to know."

"That's okay, Scorpius. Teddy is the name of my godson. And the stocking _is_ for you. I thought I'd hang it there for you, since you were asleep when you came here last night. I didn't want Father Christmas to think that the reason you didn't leave a stocking was that you didn't want any presents this year."

Scorpius' eyes widened in horror at the thought. "Oh, no! He _would_ have thought that, wouldn't he? That was very clever of you, Mister P... Harry."

"Thanks, Scorpius. I thought so, too."

"Harry's very clever like that," Draco said. Harry looked up at him, surprised, and his breath caught at the sight of his soft smile and the repressed laughter in his eyes.

"Breakfast is being served, Master Harry." Kreacher turned towards Draco and Scorpius and offered them his slightly frightening smile, full of pointy teeth. "Kreacher hopes the littlest Malfoy is liking beans on toast. It was being his father's favourite when he was being little."

"Thank you, Kreacher. It's very good to see you again," Draco said after a few seconds.

Harry blinked a few times. Not only had he failed to answer his elf, he had probably also been staring at Draco a little longer than strictly necessary. At least he thought that was why Scorpius was looking at him with a small frown on his face. He cleared his throat.

"All right then. Let's have breakfast. The dining room is right through here."

Christmas dinner was an elaborate affair, involving, amongst other things, a gigantic goose, mince pie, crackers, and a lot of lingering looks, blushing and awkward silences. By the time Andromeda left with Teddy, who was cradling a new set of gobstones (from his grandmother), a Weasley jumper with a colour changing T (from Molly), a set of junior Quidditch balls (from Harry), a wizard chess set (from Ron) and a copy of 'Starting Hogwarts – A Preliminary Guide' (from Hermione), it was dark out, and Scorpius looked as if he was about to fall asleep on the hearth rug, where he was sprawled with a toy dragon.

"I'm going to put him to bed. Thank you for making Christmas a good experience for him, despite the circumstances."

"It's the least I could do. Do you... want to come downstairs, when he's tucked in? I... ehrm... we… I haven't really had an opportunity to talk to you alone today, and I think we probably should."

"Oh! Yes. Yes, of course. I... I've wanted to talk to you, too. Just... There hasn't really been time. I'll be down as soon as I can," Draco said. He bent down and scooped his son into his arms. Harry heard his heavy footfalls on the stairs, as he set about Vanishing the mess of wrapping paper, gift bags, and half-eaten sweets and snacks.

He was just casting a Cleaning Charm on the stain on the floor, where Teddy and Scorpius had collided, resulting in a spilled glass of pumpkin juice, when he heard Draco coming back downstairs. He looked up and saw him hovering in the doorway, looking relaxed and at ease, with his sleeves rolled up and his hair slightly tousled from hugging Scorpius. He looked at home. Harry's stomach gave a peculiar, but not unpleasant, lurch at that thought, and he couldn't help the soft smile that spread on his face.

"Is Scorpius sleeping?"

"Yes. I'm sorry it took so long. I wanted to come back and help you clean up, but the house is still unfamiliar to him, so I didn't want to leave before he was asleep. It's lucky he's so exhausted; it didn't take very long. Can I help you with that?"

"No thanks, I've got it. This is the last of it, anyway. Do you want a drink?"

"Yes please. I'd do anything for a firewhiskey and five minutes of peace and quiet right now," Draco said and collapsed onto the sofa.

"I know! I love Teddy, and I really enjoyed seeing him be so excited about Christmas today, but dear Merlin, he was loud," Harry said.

He sprawled on the sofa next to Draco, carefully calculating the distance between them. Close enough to touch, if that was what they wanted, but with enough space left between them that he wasn't intruding too much into Draco's personal space. He levitated two glasses and a bottle onto the table and spelled ice into the glasses, before pouring a drink for each of them. They sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying the peace, but after a while the silence started to become stifling. Harry couldn't help thinking about the night before.

Draco was sitting so close; Harry could practically feel the heat from his body. He remembered what it had been like, having that warm, lean, muscled body pressed up against his own, and he squirmed on the sofa, trying to find a way to sit where his stirring cock wouldn't be quite as obvious. He leaned forwards and placed his glass on the table, and carefully slid a little closer to Draco when he leaned back. Draco turned his head and smiled at him. Perhaps he hadn't been as sneaky as he had wanted to be, after all. But even then, he almost jumped out of his seat when Draco suddenly leaned in a lot closer. So close that Harry could feel his hot, moist breath tickling the side of his neck when Draco leaned in to kiss him.

Harry met him halfway, but apparently Draco had other plans, because he swung one long leg over him and was straddling him slowly forwards, backing Harry up until his back hit the sofa with Draco leaning over him. Hot, slightly chapped lips were moving against him, and a slick, clever tongue was teasing at the corner of his mouth. Harry opened his mouth and deepened the kiss, while at the same time his hands moved up and cupped Draco's arse, almost on their own account. They lost themselves in the kiss, forgetting everything else for what seemed like ages. But eventually, Harry began getting light-headed, and had to pull back slightly. Draco didn't want to end the kiss entirely, so he just shifted his mouth slightly, pressing his lips to Harry's neck and ear, whispering between teasing kisses and gentle nips.

"I've been thinking about being alone with you all day. I wanted to kiss you again. It's been driving me mad all day, being so close to you, and not being able to touch you! Can I touch you, Harry? Please!"

The sound Harry made was less of a word, and more of a cross between a whimper and a groan, but apparently Draco interpreted it the way it was intended, because the next moment he was leaning even closer than before, trailing his hands along Harry's chest and shifting one leg to rest between Harry's thighs, providing some much needed friction. Harry arched into the delicious feeling and sneaked one hand under the waist of Draco's trousers, pulling his shirt free and trailing his fingers up and down over the bumps of his spine. They kissed and touched, tasted and explored for a while, before Harry realised, that if he didn't want to repeat last night's experience of coming in his pants like a teenager, then they would have to relocate to a bed. Or at least remove their clothes and find a horizontal surface. He pulled back a fraction, and felt Draco freeze above him. He smoothed a hand down one shirt clad shoulder and arm, in a reassuring caress, and felt the tense muscles relax under his touch.

"Let's go upstairs. I want to see you. To feel you."

Harry could see Draco's eyes widen at the thought. He looked beautiful and debauched, with his swollen lips, untucked shirt and blown pupils, and Harry couldn't resist leaning back in and stealing a quick kiss, before pushing Draco off him and standing.

The trip from the drawing room to the bedroom was interrupted by kisses and touches and whispered words, but eventually they were standing in front of the bed, tugging and tearing at their clothes in a race to get naked. Harry threw his glasses haphazardly in the general direction of his bedside table, and fought to get his jumper over his head. He emerged to the slightly blurry, but incredibly sexy sight of Draco, naked from the waist up and fighting to undo his flies. Apparently the rather impressive bulge, straining against the fabric, was complicating the task. Eventually he managed, and Harry scrambled to follow suit, unzipping his jeans and pulling them down in a swift move, almost toppling over when they bunched up around his ankles. He managed to avoid knocking Draco to the floor by twisting mid-fall, and landed in an inelegant heap on the bed. Draco huffed an almost soundless laugh, and crawled slowly onto the bed, straddling him in a recreation of their previous positions on the sofa. Except that this time they were mostly naked. And on his bed. That thought alone was enough to make Harry give up on words and coherent thoughts altogether, and for a while, everything was a blur of touches, kisses, and sensations, ending in the most mind-blowing orgasm of his life so far.

They were still hot and panting when the sound of an owl pecking at the window made Harry disentangle himself from Draco. He padded over to the window in a daze, discovering all sorts of delicious aches in new places as he moved.

Harry recognised Robards' haughty eagle owl the minute he opened the window, and was wide awake in a matter of seconds. The message was short, and not terribly enlightening. Just a few scribbled lines informing him that his presence was needed at headquarters. He cast a glance at the alarm on the bedside table. The evening shift would end in just over half an hour. If he hurried, he could probably be there in time for the change of shift briefing.

Draco was propped up on his elbow, watching him. He looked so sexy and the bed looked so warm, that Harry almost couldn't bear to leave him. He walked back to the bed, enjoying the way Draco was watching him with obvious appreciation. He leaned down and kissed him, hard and wanting, before grabbing the wrinkled uniform he'd worn the day before off the floor and pulling it on.

"I need to go the office. The message was very short, but it's something about the fire. I have no idea when I'll be back, but please, please don't move. I want to go to sleep next to you. And wake up and kiss you in the morning!"

"But... what... I thought the case was practically solved?"

"So did I. I don't really know anything... I'll owl as soon as I can, yeah? I'm so sorry. Please don't go anywhere!"

He ran down the stairs, grabbed a handful of floo powder and tossed it into the flames. "_Auror HQ_"

Robards was just about to begin the briefing when Harry entered the conference room. He raised an eyebrow at Harry's wrinkled appearance and the not-quite-hidden stubble burn on his neck, but quickly composed himself and called the room to order.

"Right, everybody listen up! I'm sorry to have to interrupt your Christmas, but as some of you have been informed, there was an attack on Malfoy Manor last night. The Manor was burned to the ground by fiendfyre, but luckily no lives were lost."

"Except for Scorpius' pygmypuff," Harry muttered.

Ron raised an eyebrow at him, but Harry just shook his head with a soft little smile.

"Draco and Scorpius Malfoy escaped with the help of the Auror response unit, led by Auror Potter, and are currently being housed in a secure location. The house elves Apparated out. Two men were apprehended at the scene of the crime. Both had what appeared to be Dark Marks, and were therefore questioned under Veritaserum, in accordance with standard procedure in dealing with dark arts related crimes.

"They have since been identified as Benjamin Brown and John Chessewich. Both are known in their local communities as quiet and respectable wizards, and neither has had any previously reported association with the Dark Arts. A curse breaker and an Unspeakable were called in, and reported that both men showed signs of having been imperiused. They also found that the alleged Dark Marks on their arms, were, in fact, simple glamour charms. You can all guess what this means. The person, or persons, responsible for the attack are still on the loose. We have no real motive, but until it is proven not to be the case, this incident is treated as a Dark Arts related crime, and therefore falls under Auror jurisdiction."

Robards fell silent for a moment, and took a sip of water from the glass in front of him on the conference table. He cleared his throat and started speaking again, before the scattered muttering around the table grew too loud.

"This is the plan of action: Head Auror Potter. I want you to put together a team of our best people. You can draw on the hit wizards, curse breakers, potioneers, and any other divisions you need. If you need help from the Department of Mysteries, I'm sure you can speak to the Minister or the Undersecretary yourself..."

Harry nodded. Kingsley and Hermione would help him if he asked. He knew that.

"...but feel free to get me involved, if you think it's best to go through the official channels. This case has top priority. We need to get the dark wizards under lock and key, preferably before the _Prophet_ catches word of it. Everybody, please remember to keep your inquiries discreet. We don't want to cause mass hysteria."

It was after midnight when Harry looked up at the sound of Ron pushing the chair back from his desk. He rubbed a hand over his face in an effort to dislocate some of the grit from his eyes. The team they'd put together had himself and Ron as the primary Auror participants, along with an experienced forensics expert, Stephan Jackson, who'd recommended that they include his young trainee, Persephone Wandsworth. Apparently she was something of a potions prodigy, which might come in handy. Harry didn't think he needed to be a seer to foretell that they would need quite a bit of Veritaserum for this investigation.

"Time to go home, mate," Ron yawned.

Harry tried to stop a daft, face-splitting smile from spreading, at the thought of going home and hopefully crawling into bed next to Draco.

"Yeah, you're right. We should catch some sleep. We should probably book two of the interview rooms for tomorrow morning, so we can get started. I'll send an aeroplane memo."

"You do that. Do you think we should call in Malfoy for an interview?"

Shit! Harry felt his eyes widen, probably resembling a deer caught in headlights. From a professional perspective it would make perfect sense to interview Draco. But he couldn't do that to him.

"No. I think he's already told me everything he knows. If there's anything else we need to know, I'll just ask him."

Ron's jaw dropped. "_You'll just ask him_? Do you even know where this 'secure location' Robards was talking about is?"

"Ehrm... yes. It's Grimmauld Place."

"Wha...? Bloody hell, Harry! You're _living_ with _Malfoy_? And there hasn't been any bloodshed?"

"I'm not _living_ with him. He slept one night on a transfigured chair in Teddy's room!"

_And hopefully, he's currently sleeping in my bed_, Harry thought. But Ron definitely didn't need to know that.

"Why was he sleeping on a chair? You have guest rooms."

"Yeah, but he wanted to be close to Scorpius, in case he woke up."

"Really? Huh."

"From what I've seen, he's actually not a bad father."

"It's hard to believe... And it's strange, really... I never heard of a wedding and Mum usually loves to gossip about things like that. Malfoy just disappeared after 8th year, and now he has a son."

"Yeah, strange..."

"Do you think we should investigate? Maybe it's tied to the fire, somehow?"

Harry knew that from Ron's perspective that made perfect sense. But the thought of dragging Draco's personal life and Scorpius' parentage into an investigation made his heart surge protectively. He couldn't really tell Ron that, though.

"I don't think so. But let's keep it in mind, yeah? Maybe we'll call him in for an interview later. See if he can give us some information, or come up with a different perspective on the case."

Ron gave him a speculative look that reminded Harry way too much of Hermione, when she was trying to solve some kind of riddle.

"Yeah, sure. We'll wait and see. G'night mate!"

Ron cast one last glance at Harry over his shoulder and closed the door behind him. Harry let his forehead fall onto the table with a _thunk,_ before scrambling out of his chair, drawing his cloak around his shoulders, and heading for the floo.

Draco wasn't sleeping. He was leaning against the headboard of Harry's bed, with his feet tucked under him and a quidditch magazine from the pile of light reading Harry kept next to the bed propped against his thighs. He had showered, if his still damp hair and the towel slung over the foot of the bed was any indication. Apparently, he had been distracting himself with books for quite a while, because the bed was scattered with reading material. There was the note from Robards, looking crumpled, like it had been read several times, along with a classified report on potions smuggling, and even one of Teddy's comics. He looked up when Harry entered, blinking and bleary-eyed.

"Hi!"

"Harry! What happened?"

Harry toed off his shoes and started unbuttoning his robes while he crossed the floor.

"They questioned the suspects under Veritaserum and found out they'd been imperiussed."

"But that means that whoever was behind the fire is still out there, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, it does. Robards signed the investigation over to my jurisdiction. I hope that's okay. I mean... I can get Ron to take over, if it makes you uncomfortable..."

"NO! Please don't. I... trust you. With this..." he gestured at the bed and Harry's now discarded robes, "...and with the investigation as well."

"Thank you. I hoped you would, but... we have so much history, you know? I wasn't sure if..."

"Yeah, we do. And we should probably talk about that, before this gets even more complicated. But right now, I'm just happy that I'm safe and Scorpius is safe. And I really, really want to pick up where we left off," Draco said and smiled. A slow, sensual smile that did weird things to Harry's stomach. And Harry really had no choice, but to climb onto the bed and kiss him.

Harry walked quickly towards the interview rooms. Even now, a decade after the war, he didn't like being down here. The staircase from Level Nine to Level Ten would always remind him of Umbridge. He even caught himself scratching at the fading scars on his right hand, whenever he had to be down here. At least there weren't dementors here any longer. He opened the door to the one he'd booked. Ron was already sitting there, along with Benjamin Brown and a witch from the office which was representing him. Harry pulled out the only remaining chair in the room and sat down.

"Good morning**,** Mr Brown. Ms Everett. I'm Head Auror Potter. I assume you've met my second-in-command, Auror Weasley. Do you know why we're here?"

"We're here to establish that my client was wrongfully accused of being a Death Eater, and to get him released," said Ms Everett.

Harry looked at her. She was a younger woman, around the same age as Ron and himself, but he didn't remember her from Hogwarts. She must have been in one of the other houses, either a few years ahead of him, or a few years behind. Or maybe she studied abroad. Her hair was slicked back in a severe knot, and she wore loose, but formal, robes. The strict look she was giving him reminded him eerily of a young McGonagall, or worse, a cross Hermione. Ron was feeling the same way, if his nervous swallowing and slight flinching was any indication. He took a moment to think about how best to proceed. Ron beat him to it, however.

"While the evidence suggests that your client is not a Death Eater, the fact remains that he was caught at the scene of a very serious crime. It is in your client's best interest that we solve this as soon as possible, so we can clear his name. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes of course, bu-"

"Then my suggestion is that you agree to give us a memory for the Pensieve."

"Auror Weasley, that's preposterous! I simply can't agr-"

"We can get it through the Wizengamot, of course, but it will probably take a few days. And in the meantime, your client will have to remain in custody," Harry cut in, over Ms Everett's spluttering.

"A few days? That's absurd! I'll go to the _Prophet_, if that's what it takes!"

"No you won't," Ron said. "Since this inquiry is being kept confidential for reasons concerning the good of the British wizarding public, going to the press would be a criminal offence."

Ms Everett narrowed her eyes and glared at him. Harry sat back in his chair and let them continue their sniping for a minute or two. He was just getting ready to bring the discussion back on track when Mr Brown spoke up.

"Can I say something?"

Ron and Ms Everett both fell silent immediately. Ms Everett looked slightly frazzled, so caught up in the argument that she forgotten for a moment why she was here. Ron couldn't quite contain his smug little smile. Harry cleared his throat.

"Please continue, Mr Brown."

"All right. It's... I would like... Erm... I want to volunteer a memory."

"Mr Brown! I don't think that's wise at all!"

"Please, Ms Everett. Let Mr Brown finish!" Ron said.

"I think it's in my own best interest, as well as that of the wizarding public, that this is cleared up as soon as possible. If my memory can help, then you're more than welcome to it."

Harry stood up. "Thank you, Mr Brown! We're very grateful for your cooperation. I'll have one of the Unspeakables down here in a few minutes to talk to you about what giving up your memory entails, and to have you sign a consent form. Ms Everett, I suggest you stay with your client through the whole procedure."

Ms Everett sighed and stood up.

"Very well, Auror Potter, Auror Weasley. Goodbye."

Harry closed the door and leaned against the raw stone wall of the corridor. He reached out and slapped Ron's shoulder.

"Great work, mate!"

"Thanks. Being married to Hermione's taught me a few tricks." Ron grinned, but immediately looked guilty and glanced around, as if checking that Hermione wasn't listening in on them. When he found the corridor empty, the grin reappeared.

"One down, one to go. Let's go speak to Mr Chessewick."

"Yeah. Let's hope his representative is a bit less intimidating, though," Harry said.

Harry collapsed into his chair and put his feet on his desk. Ron helped himself to the visitor's chair and _accio_ed a chocolate frog from the desk drawer. Mr Chessewick had willingly given permission to use his memories, and now they just had to wait for the aeroplane memo from the Unspeakable who was responsible for extracting them.

Ron cleared his throat.

"So... you and Malfoy?"

"Wh... what are you talking about?"

"You. And Malfoy." Ron said, carefully pronouncing each word.

"Ehrm..."

"Oh, come on, mate! You show up at a briefing, wearing a wrinkled uniform, with stubble burn all over your neck, and tell me that Malfoy is staying at your house. Add to that the huge crush you've had on him since 8th year, and it doesn't take much of an Auror to put the story together."

"Please, Ron. I really, really don't want to talk about it. I'm not even sure where this is going, and I know that Draco wouldn't want me to discuss his private life with anybody."

"Okay. I won't ask, then. Just... be careful. He might have changed, but this investigation is still a mess."

"I know! Thanks. For looking out for me. And please, could you not tell Hermione? Just for a little while. You know I love her, but she'd want to analyse it all to death, and I just want to see where it's going."

Ron nodded.

At the same time the door opened, and an aeroplane swooped in**,** and landed on the desk in front of Harry. He unfolded it carefully, and read it.

"The memories are ready. Do you think we should view them together?"

"Sure. Let's grab some lunch and then we'll go down to Mysteries after that, yeah?"

_The sleet was turning to snow, falling quietly over the Manor grounds. Benjamin Brown and John Chessewick were walking towards the gates. They were wearing what appeared to be their everyday clothes. Chessewick wore a tweed jacket with elbow patches and Brown was sporting a well-worn set of robes, dragon hide gloves, and a leather apron._

_Both men were walking straight ahead, not caring about their surroundings. When they reached the gates they stopped and stood passively, waiting. A third man, older, with long, greying hair, and a sickly pallor, wearing a tattered set of grey robes, joined them. Despite his appearance, he was moving with much more care, keeping to the shadows and, when he couldn't avoid open stretches, dropping down into a crouch and running. He took out his wand and transfigured the other two's outer clothes into black, hooded robes._

_Both of them kept staring straight ahead, even as they lifted their left arm and held it out to the third man. He touched his wand to their arms, one after the other, and then he started speaking. He spoke for several minutes, becoming more and more agitated. When he stopped talking, the other two nodded once, in unison. Then he folded back his sleeve and touched his arm to the gate, gesturing for them to go through, the second it started opening. When they were safely within the Manor, he crouched down behind a hedge and waited._

_It didn't take long before the faint glow of a fire lit up the sky behind the high garden walls. And only a few minutes later, the fiery shapes of chimeras, basilisks, and dragons were leaping high into the sky. As the sound of apparition and the shouts of the Aurors were heard over the roaring of the fire, the man re-emerged and took one last look through the gates. Seemingly satisfied with the destruction he'd caused, he turned on the spot and Disapparated._

Harry and Ron emerged from the Pensieve, gasping for air.

"Did you recognise him?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I'd recognise that face anywhere. That was Selwynn."

"Selwynn?!" Draco whispered. He cast a glance at Scorpius, who was on the floor playing with some of Teddy's toys, and sagged against the worktop in Harry's kitchen.

Harry nodded.

"But he's in Azkaban!"

"Not anymore. He got out last month. Apparently, he was released early for good behaviour."

"Good behaviour! We're talking about the same person here, right? The one who tried to ambush you, when you were leaving Privet Drive? The one who almost caught you, when you were visiting Luna's father?"

Harry cringed and nodded again.

"So, Selwynn was responsible for the fire? Where is he now? Did you apprehend him?"

"We only just found out. We're on our way to check out the address he gave on the release papers. I just... wanted to let you know first. And to see you." Harry cleared his throat. "Is there any special reason, that you can think of, why he would target you? Ehrm... apart from the obvious, I mean."

He raked a hand through his hair. Fuck! He was back to behaving like a bloody fool and not being able to string a full sentence together in front of Draco.

"I did testify against him at the trials," Draco said slowly, his voice cracking slightly. "But I didn't have anything incriminating to say, really. He was a bumbling idiot. Too clumsy and slow to do much more than material damage, most of the time. He wasn't one of the really terrifying ones. He wasn't a maniac, like the Carrows or Aunt Bella. He was more of a stupid bully. Just following orders."

Harry looked up at the tone of his voice. Shit! That year, with Voldemort and his Death Eaters living at the Manor must have been extremely terrifying, he thought.

"Draco... I... we'll find him. Hopefully today."

"I know. Just... be careful. Even if he is an idiot, he's still a dangerous idiot."

Harry could feel a smile tugging at his lips. The thought of someone, of _Draco_, being concerned for him, warmed him, and he wanted to grab him and kiss him. But Scorpius was still in the room, and Kreacher was muttering to himself in the corner, so he settled for grabbing Draco's hand and squeezing it, leaning in close.

"I really, really want to kiss you, right now," he whispered in his ear.

"Just focus on catching Selwynn, and when you get back, we'll do a lot more than just kissing," Draco whispered back with a smirk.

They were interrupted by a pointed cough.

"Will Master be joining us for lunch? Kreacher is being cooking beans on toast for the littlest Malfoy."

"Oh! No thank you, Kreacher, I'd best be going. Bye Scorpius!" he called over his shoulder.

Scorpius looked up from his toys and smiled.

"Bye Harry. Please come back soon and kiss Father!"

Harry hurriedly grabbed a handful of floo powder and shouted out his destination, feeling like a bit of a coward for leaving Draco to deal with the mess.

- - -

By the time Harry reached his destination, his violent blush had mostly faded. The address on Selwynn's release papers was for a small cottage, on the outskirts of a sleepy village. Harry waited around the corner for Ron and the rest of his team. The house didn't look particularly ominous, but Harry knew by now, that appearances could be deceiving, so when they arrived, he instructed Jackson and Persephone to wait outside the white picket fence, while he and Ron walked through the small front garden and knocked on the blue front door. It was answered by an elderly witch, who was drying off her hands on her apron, looking not at all confused at the prospect of Aurors knocking on her door in the middle of the afternoon.

"Mrs Johnson? I'm Auror Potter, and this is Auror Weasley. We would like to ask you a few questions, regarding your nephew Wolfric Selwynn. Do you have a few minutes?"

"Wolfie? Yes, of course! I'm glad you're finally investigating! Please come in."

Harry frowned at Ron behind Mrs Johnson's back, but he shrugged and shook his head. Ron's judgement of this kind of situation was usually much better than Harry's, so he gestured for him to take the lead. Mrs Johnson was showing them into the sitting room, and Summoning a teapot and cups, talking all the while.

"I was so happy to hear that Wolfie was being released early on good behaviour. He was always a bit of a bully, but a good boy deep down. He just fell in with the wrong crowd is what I've been saying all along."

She waved them onto an squishy sofa, occupied by a grumpy looking kneazle. Its bushy tail was flicking, in the most menacing way, so Harry gingerly moved a floral patterned throw pillow between himself and the animal, before settling in to listen.

"I must say, I had hoped the solicitors office would be a little quicker, but at least they handed the case over to someone prominent."

She beamed at them, and Harry smiled back cautiously.

"Even though I must say, it's a little unusual for the aurors to be handling a missing person's case, isn't it? Wolfie hasn't even been gone for 24 hours yet."

"Ehrm..." Harry said.

"We take this case very seriously, Mrs. Johnson," Ron cut in, but he was quickly interrupted.

"Please, call me Aurelia," she threw a flirtatious look at Ron, who flushed bright scarlet.

"Right! Aurelia. Would you mind telling us about anything unusual preceding your nephew's disappearance? Was he acting differently? Talking to someone on the floo? Receiving more owls than usual?"

"Well. Wolfie was very quiet, at first, and he spent a lot of time in the garden. He made me cast a warming charm on the bench for him, since he's still not allowed a wand. He said he enjoyed the fresh air and the sun. But he was slowly getting better. He even got a job, down at the Sleepy Dragon. Mostly just wiping down the tables and sweeping, but sometimes he would stand behind the bar. James, that's the barman, doesn't mind that Wolfie is a bit clumsy, and knocks over the occasional glass. He's an old friend of mine, you see." The lascivious look Aurelia Johnson threw them at the last sentence suggested that the friendship may not have been strictly platonic. She drained her teacup and poured another, adding four cubes of sugar and stirring loudly, before she continued.

"As I was saying, everything was going well, until yesterday. Christmas is a slow day down at the Dragon, but Wolfie insisted on going in to work anyway. He gets restless, you see. But he never came home. I flooed James, but he said that Wolfie had left with a young man, and I thought it best not to meddle. I do want Wolfie to find someone to settle down with. But I waited up 'till midnight. When he still hadn't come home this morning, I contacted his solicitor, and here you are!"

Harry looked at Ron, who drained his teacup and stood up.

"Thank you so much for your help, Mrs... _Aurelia," _he said. "We'll get back to you the moment we find your nephew."

- - -

"So, we're going for a butterbeer," Harry announced, when they met up with Jackson and Persephone on the road outside the cottage.

"I think I need something stronger, Harry," Ron moaned. He was wearing an expression of absolute disgust. "She was flirting with me. She has to be at least 80 years old, and she was _flirting_ with me."

Harry and Persephone laughed and Jackson slapped him on the back sympathetically.

"It can't be helped, Ron. You're a handsome bloke. But don't worry. Next time, Persephone'll come with you and protect your virtue," Jackson said.

- - -

The Sleepy Dragon was just that. Sleepy. The warm air that hit Harry like a wall when he opened the door, carried a faint, sweet smell of chips and stale butterbeer. They made their way over the slightly sticky floor to the bar and ordered their drinks.

"You're here to find out where Wolfie went, then?" the barman said, as he slammed down three butterbeers and a firewhiskey in front of them.

"Yes, Mr..."

"Sprunge."

"Mr Sprunge. We understand that he was here yesterday. Would you mind telling us what happened?" Harry asked.

"Is he in trouble? Because I already told 'im, that I was willing to overlook the Mark, but on the condition that he remained on the straight and narrow, as long as he was working for me!"

"Nobody's guilty until the Wizengamot has had its say, but let's put it this way... If you see him, please contact us immediately, and try not to provoke him."

"Well, Wolfie came in yesterday, but it was really slow, as it always is on Christmas. I told him that he could go home, if he wanted, but he didn't seem in a hurry, so he sat down and had a pint at the bar. Then that mate of his came in and they left together. Haven't seen him since."

"Did they say where they were going?"

"Not that I heard, no."

"Do you know the name of Mr Selwynn's friend? Can you describe him to us?"

"Dunno his name, no. He's a youngish bloke. Blond. Wears suits or business robes."

"And did he seem like he was leaving with Mr Selwynn on his own volition? Did he look Imperiused? Did either of them have a wand drawn?"

"They looked friendly enough to me. No wands that I saw. Wolfie wasn't allowed one anyway. Had a Trace on him, he said."

"Thank you, Mr Sprunge. If you get any news of Mr Selwynn's whereabouts, I trust you'll let us know?"

"'Course I will, Auror Potter. That'll be three Galleons**,** sixty Sickles. Enjoy your drinks."

- - -

By the time Harry Apparated onto the landing in front of Grimmauld Place, it was past seven, and he'd been working for more than 12 hours. He'd sent an owl to Draco earlier, informing him of their lack of success in capturing Selwynn, and telling him that he might have to stay late at the Ministry and follow up on some leads. Unfortunately, they all seemed to be dead ends.

The street was dark and something seemed... a bit off. His auror senses were immediately on alert, and he gripped his wand a little harder, before realising that the faint buzz of traffic that seemed to be omnipresent in London, especially around rush hour, was almost absent. It took him a few seconds to figure out why. So much had happened over the two days! On Christmas Eve, he'd been on a boring holiday shift, and now, on Boxing Day, he was sort of... hopefully... on the verge of starting a relationship with Draco Malfoy, whom he had practically invited to live with him, along with his young son. And he was also in the middle of a high profiled case involving a manhunt for a Death Eater, and an attack on Malfoy Manor. Why couldn't his life ever be uncomplicated?

He opened the door, kicked off his heavy dragon hide boots in the hall and followed the sound of voices and the delicious scent of Christmas leftovers downstairs to the kitchen.  
Kreacher and Flimby were chatting while doing the dishes. Or... at least Flimby was chatting, while Kreacher made uncommitted noises at regular intervals.

Draco was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the evening _Prophet_ and nursing a cup of tea. A scroll of parchment was open in front of him, one end wedged under the tea cup, and the other pinned down by his elbow. Harry watched as he underlined something in the paper and then scrawled a few lines on the parchment. Draco looked so elegant and out of place, sitting in his crisp, white button up shirt at Harry's battered old oak table. But at the same time, he looked so relaxed and at home. His hair was falling into his eyes, he had a smudge of ink on his hand, and his sock clad feet were resting on the seat of the chair at the opposite side of the table. Harry didn't remember crossing the floor, but he must have, because the next thing he knew, he was standing next to Draco, smiling down at him. Draco tilted his neck back to glower at him through narrowed eyes.

"You're a coward, Harry Potter!" he spat.

"Wh... ehrm... Sorry?" Harry said, completely baffled. He could feel his eyes widen, and his heart rate increased.

"You rushed off to catch Death Eaters, unsuccessfully, I might add, and left me here to face the inquisition. Alone." Draco's lips were quirking up at the corners, but he was still glaring.

Oh! Scorpius!

"Was it terrifying?" Harry asked sympathetically.

"Very! He had a million questions, one more embarrassing and accurate than the other. It was a nightmare."

"I'm sorry. I just thought it'd make it even more awkward if I was there."

"I know. It probably would have been. He'd have asked you about your intentions and you'd have squirmed and stammered like an idiot." Draco's scowl finally shattered into a smile. He put his ink smeared hand around Harry's neck and tucked him forward, leaving Harry no choice but to lean down and kiss him.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, and sat down at the table. Kreacher puttered over with a plate of leftovers under a warming charm, and he nodded at the old elf, who just shot him a baleful look in response, before he retreated to his cupboard, taking Flimby with him.

"I'm just looking over a few things for work."

"Work?"

"Don't look so surprised. I do actually work. I'm on staff at the British Magical Heritage Foundation," Draco said. "We manage historical places and archaeological sites of magical interest. I helped found it."

"I've heard of it. Hermione thinks it's brilliant."

"And what do you think?"

"I've never really thought much about it, to be honest. But I can see why it's important. It's not what I'd have imagined you'd do with your life, though."

"No, probably not," Draco said, with a small, fond smile. His eyes were a little unfocussed, as if he was remembering something that made him happy. "There's an old Roman settlement on the Malfoy grounds. I used to just wander around there for hours, when I was little, collecting pottery shards. When I got a bit older, and learned some spells, I searched for coins, too. Mother hated it, because my hands were always grubby and I had dirt under my nails. Eventually I lost interest, and started playing quidditch and being a pompous git instead." His smile dimmed and something flickered behind his eyes. He rested his leg against Harry's under the table, and closed his eyes. Harry took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Draco smiled at him and continued.

"Then, during the war, I started taking walks out there again. Just to get away from the house for a while. It was the only place I was able to let my guard down, just a little, since nobody else came out there. And afterwards, when the trials were over, I just felt like I had to get away for a bit. So I went to university. Muggle university. I have a Masters in Prehistoric Archaeology."

"Wasn't it hard, going to a Muggle uni?"

"In some ways, yes. But in other ways, it was great! Nobody knew me. I invented a cover story about being from Sweden and most people were so busy complimenting me on my hair and my excellent language skills, they didn't notice when I did something odd."

"I think it's brilliant."

"Yeah, it is. I really enjoy my work. It's why I called Flimby over, actually. I hope you don't mind. He watches Scorpius for me, sometimes, when I have to pop into the office. And I think I might have to, tomorrow. Just to get some papers."

"Of course. Where are the rest of your elves? They're welcome too, you know. I mean, if you want to stay. I know I can't offer you much privacy, and I understand if you'd rather find somewhere else, but it's probably the safest place for both of you while Selwynn's still out there."

"That... that's a very generous offer. And I'd very much like to accept it. But if we're staying, I think we should probably talk about this," he said and gestured at their entwined hands on the table, and the lack of space between their shoulders.

Harry sighed, and Draco squeezed his hand.

"You're right. We should. But I don't know what to say, exactly."

"I want to stay, Harry. And I want to see where this is going. But I don't want myself and Scorpius to get hurt. I need to know what your motives are. You've been nothing but perfect these last few days, and I'm not asking for a big declaration, but I need to know if this is just that "saving people thing" the papers quote Granger for saying you have."

"No. It's not. I... you... oh, Merlin, this is going to sound completely immature and creepy," Harry said. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to gather his thoughts. He kept his eyes shut, when he continued, not wanting to be distracted by whatever emotion he might read on Draco's face.

"I had a crush on you in school. In 8th year. I had no idea what to do about it. It's why I behaved like an idiot most of the time. I wanted this for a very, very long time, but I knew it wasn't going to happen. We were growing up, and you disappeared for a few years, and I thought that was it. And then two days ago, you were suddenly here. In my house. And you were so different from what I'd imagined. I... think I'm falling for you. Again. The adult and responsible you. Not the schoolboy I had a hopeless crush on. So no, this has nothing to do with being noble. Or a Gryffindor. On the contrary, I shouldn't be doing this. Not while I'm involved in the case. This is me, being selfish and reaching out for what I want, for a change. I want to see where this is going too, Draco."

He kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, before risking a glance at Draco. He was smiling again. A wry smile, but genuine.

"Oh, well. As long as your motivation is purely selfish... As a former Slytherin, I can agree to that."

Draco raised a single eyebrow and winked. Harry could feel the wide grin stretching across his face.

"You're staying?"

"I'm staying."

"In the guest room?"

"For now."

Harry's good mood disappeared. "Oh!"

"I just think it's better if we keep it simple for the time being. At least until the case is solved. I want to be with you, Harry. I really do. But I have Scorpius to think about too, and I don't want to rush. I do want you to come here, so that I can kiss you, though."

By the first weekend of the new year, Harry and Draco had fallen into a routine of sorts. Draco worked from Grimmauld Place as much as possible and looked after Scorpius, while Harry spent long hours at the Ministry and came home late at night, frustrated and tired. They didn't really talk about the case much, but it was taking its toll on all of them. Scorpius was acting out, Draco was getting more snarky and looking more pinched by the hour, and Harry was so frustrated by the complete disappearance of Wolfric Selwynn, that he was about ready to pull his hair out.

"Still no leads?" Draco asked.

Harry looked up from the pile of case notes he had spread out in front of him at the table, groaned, and ran both hands through his hair, not caring that he made it stick out even worse than usual.

"No."

"Nothing? Not even something that you can follow up on?"

"No, Draco! We've checked every lead we had," Harry sighed.

"Are you sure you've checked all of them? Weasley hasn't been too busy eating crisps in your office or moaning about the Cannons and their worst season ever, to do his job?"

The jeering tone, the sneer on Draco's face, and the snide remark about Ron reminded Harry too much of their school days. Irritation prickled hot under his skin. He clenched and unclenched his fists on top of his thighs under the table a few times rubbing his sweaty palms on his wrinkled uniform trousers, trying to keep from reaching for his wand, out of old habit. He had to remind himself that this Draco wasn't the same person who he'd fought with so many times at school. This Draco was a man whose life was under threat, as was the life of his young son. He took a few calming gulps of air and finally felt calm enough to answer.

"No, Draco. There's nothing. I'm sorry. It's like he's just... vanished."

Draco slumped down in the chair opposite Harry's. "I know," he sighed. "It's not your fault, Harry. It's just so frustrating, being cooped up here like this! Scorpius is climbing the walls. Literally."

Harry gave him a small smile, and pushed some of the case notes out of the way so he could reach out and grab Draco's hand and rub soothing circles over his wrist. Draco gave him a small, but genuine smile. Harry squeezed his hand lightly and admired the slender fingers, remembering how they felt tangled in his hair as they kissed. When his fingertips grazed the smooth, sensitive skin on Draco's palm, ghosting over the broom callouses there, he had an idea. "You have a quidditch pitch at the Manor, don't you?"

Draco looked startled by the seemingly random change of subject. Harry couldn't help grinning broadly. The tone of Draco's voice, when he answered, made it perfectly clear that he thought Harry was going mad. "...yes," he said, slowly. "It's not a pitch, as such, but there are some hoops and a broom shed behind the apple orchard. Why?"

"We should go out. Get some air. Do something different."

"Do you think that's safe? I'd rather be stuck inside, if it means Scorpius is out of harm's way."

"It'll be fine. I promise. The Manor is a crime scene, so it's under auror surveillance. No one can get onto the groundsif they're not cleared by the Ministry, or accompanied by an auror. Come on, Draco! It'll be fun! I'll Floo Ron. He won't mind being in command for the afternoon."

The Manor grounds were beautiful, even in winter. Scorpius ran ahead of them, shouting and pointing to different landmarks, disturbing the light dusting of snow on the path through the gardens.

"I'm glad I could Apparate us directly to this part of the grounds," Draco whispered and cast a glance over his shoulder. "He's so happy to be here; he doesn't need to see the ruins."

Harry could only nod. The only thing remaining of the Manor was a pile of soot-blackened stones, interspersed with charred oak beams. It stood out like a stark, black gash in the white snow, and was partially obscured by the low wall surrounding the apple orchard. It wouldn't be visible to someone Scorpius' height.

"Look Harry! This is my quidditch pitch. See! The hoops are so low, I can score, even though Father will only let me use a training broom," Scorpius said, and he took Harry's hand, dragging him towards the hoops.

They were about the same height as Harry, and the ground beneath them shimmered with magic from a cushioning charm. Harry smiled. Teddy would love something like this! Maybe they could bring him along, when it got a little warmer, and have a picnic in the grounds.

Draco came up behind Harry and leaned close, resting his hands lightly over Harry's hips and his chin on Harry's shoulder. "The hoops can be adjusted so adults can play too," he said, so close, that Harry could feel his hot breath ghosting across his ear. He turned around in Draco's arms and grinned.

"Father! Harry! Let's play!"

"Okay, okay. How about you two play against each other, and I'll keep score?" Harry said.

"No! Let's make it Malfoys vs. Potters!" Draco countered.

"On one condition. Afterwards, we'll play Slytherin vs. Gryffindor. That way, we'll both get this little star on our team for a match."

"You've got a deal, Potter**.**"

"Oh, so it's back to Potter now, is it, Malfoy?" Harry said with a smile.

"Of course it is. It wouldn't be a proper quidditch match any other way!" Draco answered, with his most superior sneer.

Harry didn't bother answering, but he made sure that a small flurry of snow hit Draco in the face, when he kicked off on his newly enlarged broom.

"Gryffindor wins!" Scorpius yelled triumphantly, holding up the Snitch and flying a victory lap around the pitch, to applause from both Harry and Draco, before landing at their feet. Feeling mischievous, Harry had charmed his small cloak red with a gold trim, much to Scorpius' delight and Draco's dismay.

"Did you see that, Father? I caught the Snitch!"

"That was brilliant, Scorpius!" Draco said, crouching down to hug his son. "You'll be the best Seeker Gryffindor has ever seen, I can already tell!"

Harry could feel a soft, wistful smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. If he could somehow manage to keep this...if he could build the family he'd always wanted with this gorgeous, wonderful man and his son... He was so lost in the daydream, that when he caught sight of a red jet of light out of the corner of his eye, he reacted purely on instinct. He barrelled into Draco and Scorpius, knocking them over, out of the way of the curse, and positioned himself in front of them. The curse grazed his wand arm, and there was a searing, white-hot flash of pain, but he still managed a shield charm, before their attackers were able to fire off another curse. Behind him, he felt, more than saw, Draco drawing his wand and re-enforcing their shield, while crouching low on the ground, wrapping his body protectively around Scorpius.

"Draco! I can't move my arm. I can't cast..." he gasped through the pain. He could already feel his wand arm quivering, and the shield flickered for a moment, before he managed to slide it back into place.

"Just focus on holding the shield for me," Draco said, his voice calm and collected. Harry nodded once and brought his other hand up to his elbow, to support his shaking arm. It felt like his skin was blistering and peeling away, leaving his arm rubbing raw against the fabric of his shirt. The pain made him want to claw at his sleeve, to keep it from touching his skin and setting every nerve ending in his arm on fire, but he ground his teeth and kept the shield up. Draco fired hex after hex at their attackers, who were crouching behind a hedge, but so far he hadn't managed to hit them with anything.

"Please, Draco! I can't hold it much longer."

"Fuck! Hold on! _Incendio_!" Draco shouted, and the hedge went up in flames.

"_Stupefy_!" The stunner hit one of the attackers square in the back, between his shoulders, and he froze with his wand half-raised and his mouth open on a curse.

Harry dropped the shield and shifted his wand to his left hand, just as the last attacker turned sharply, preparing to Disapparate.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" he shouted, at the same time as Draco cried out another "_Stupefy_!" The man dropped like a rock, mid-turn, and hit the frozen ground with a sickening crack. Draco quickly conjured ropes to bind each of the men, though it hardly seemed necessary.

Harry spun around and dropped to his knees beside Draco and Scorpius. Draco had cast another shield around them, his eyes darting frantically around, looking for other attackers. Scorpius was cradled against his chest, crying quietly. Satisfied that the immediate danger seemed to be over, Harry started unbuttoning his cloak and shrugged off the right sleeve, before he ripped his shirt sleeve apart to get the fabric away from his aching arm. The cold air against his skin felt both worse and better. The cold soothed the burn somewhat, but the light wind made spikes of pain shoot from every nerve ending. Draco gasped, and when Harry looked at him, he was staring at his arm, looking a little sick. He looked down and saw that what used to be his right forearm was now essentially an angry, pink, lump of raw meat. There were patches of blistered skin, and large areas where the skin had already peeled away from the flesh beneath.

"Harry! You need to go to St. Mungo's. Right now!" Draco's voice sounded tiny, and seemed to come from far away. Harry felt a little lightheaded, and black spots were starting to dance in front of his eyes.

"Yeah... I do. I'll just... get a hold of Ron, and..."

"Can you cast a Patronus, left handed?"

"I... don't know. Not feeling very happy at the moment either, to be honest..."

"Shit! Harry? You need to stay awake. HARRY!"

There was a loud buzzing in his ears, and his field of vision was rapidly narrowing, turning black around the edges.

"M'awake, Draco. A little."

"Okay. I'll cast the Patronus, then. Just try to stay conscious, okay?"

The last thing he remembered, before the world turned still and black, was the thought that he really needed to stay awake to see Draco's Patronus.

Harry had been in hospital enough times during his career as an auror that he knew where he was, even before he opened his eyes. There was a faint smell of disinfectant in the airand a distant mumble of voices. The cover was thin and so starched it didn't follow the curves of his body properly, but just lay on top of him. His left hand was being squeezed tightlyby someone. Someone with small, soft hands and perfectly manicured nailsthat were currently digging into his palm.

"H'mione?" he asked, and the hold on his hand tightened for a second, before it disappeared. He could hear her moving around, drawing her wand and muttering a spell to call for a healer.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, sitting down and taking his hand again. Harry cracked one eye open experimentally, but immediately shut it again, when the light made him wince.

"'M fine. Draco? Scorpius?"

"Are both okay." He could practically hear the amused smugness in Hermione's voicewhen she continued.

"Draco's with Ron at HQ, going over some details about the attack and the security around the Manor grounds. Luna's looking after Scorpius. I think they're looking at streelers in her office, down at Creatures. I promised I'd Floo as soon as you woke up."

"How long was I out?"

"About twelve hours. The healer said that it was best if you remained unconscious, until they finished treating you. And then they gave you a vial of Dreamless Sleep for the night. Are you thirsty? I can conjure some waterfor you, if you don't feel up to casting left-handedjust yet."

"Yeah, a glass of water would be nice."

Harry's eyes shot open again, when his mind caught up with the implications of what she'd just said.

"Wait! What? Left-handed? They finished treating my arm, didn't they?"

Hermione clutched his left hand again in a fierce grip. She gave him an encouraging little smile, but her eyes were worried and a little sad.

"They did what they could, but it's going to take some time," she said carefully. "The healer can explain better than I, but it was a boiling charm..."

"I didn't have boils! My skin just sort of flaked off."

"No, Harry. Not boils. Literally boiling. Your arm was... cooked..."

"_What! _I don't even know a curse that does that!"

"That's because it wasn't a curse, Harry. It was a charm. An ordinary household charm, the kind that Molly uses probably fifty times a day."

"Oh. _Oh_! And since it wasn't a curse, there's no counter-curse. Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"Yes, Harry. They could treat the surface burn, but the muscle underneath is affected too, from what I gathered. The healer wasn't very forthcoming. He kept talking about patient confidentiality." There was a slight tightening around her mouth, as if being kept from the information she wanted had a bitter taste.

"Thank you for staying with me, Hermione. I don't tell you nearly enough, but you're a great friend."

Hermione gave him a slightly wobbly smile at that. There was a perfunctory knock on the door and a frowning, middle-aged woman in lime green healer robes entered, before anyone had time to call out an 'enter'.

"You called again, Madam Undersecretary? You do realise that we're here to offer treatment to our patients, not to answer questions from their friends and relatives?" Her gaze fell on Harry and her tight smile instantly transformed into something more genuine. "Ah! Head Auror Potter, you're awake! Good. I'll just cast a few spells and then we can talk about your injury. I'm Healer Marigold."

Hermione stood up quickly and cast an anti-wrinkling charm at her smart business robes. She glared briefly at the healer, before standing up straighter, one hand automatically flying to her head and checking that her hair was still in place.

"I'll just go and Floo the Ministry, and let them know you're awake."

"Thank you, Hermione. You can stay, you know, but I'd really like for them to know that I'm okay."

"I know Harry. I'll be back in a little while." She leant in and kissed his cheek, before leaving without further acknowledging the healer.

Harry was staring blankly at the ceiling, not really seeing it, but not wanting to close his eyes either. It was easier to keep the thoughts at bay with his eyes open. The healer had used a lot of words, like extensive muscular damage, physiotherapy, an advanced potions regime and a good chance of complete recovery. But what it all boiled down to... pun not intended... was that he would have to cope with only using his left hand for months. Which meant only the most basic magic for at least a few weeks, and no fieldwork for months after that. In other words; he would have to hand the Auror division over to Ron.

At least he knew that his job would be in capable hands. And it would mean more time with Draco. And Scorpius. And he could have Teddy over more often. Andromeda had been having some health issues lately. But still. Not being able to use his magic. The one thing that he was good at. There was no way around it. It was going to be hell. The door creaked open, and Harry slowly blinked, until the room came back into focus. Draco was standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Harry?"

"Draco!" The relief in his voice was so painfully obvious, that he might as well go all out. He extended his arms, like a small child in need of a hug, and Draco practically flung himself at him, twisting slightly to avoid the thick bandage on his right arm, and crushing his face into Harry's neck.

"Thank Merlin, you're okay! You are okay, aren't you?"

Harry patted his back awkwardly with his left hand.

"Yeah, I am. Or, I'm going to be. How's Scorpius holding up?"

"He's taking it all remarkably well. He's helping Luna look after some poisonous chameleon snails. It takes his mind off things."

"Good. I'm so glad you're here. Draco, I... I can't use magic. My arm is useless, and the healer said that I'd have to learn to do the most basic spells left-handed, because it might be months before I gain full control of my fine motor skills." He could feel the tears welling up, and his voice sounded thick, even to his own ears.

"Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry." Draco's arms tightened around him.

"I don't even know who I am without my magic, Draco."

"I'll help you. And we've got the elves, and Scorpius can help a bit**,** too. You can learn some spells together. Swish and flick. Just like first year. It won't be fun, but we can manage."

"Yeah. But Draco, you don't have to. I mean, you didn't sign up for taking care of an invalid. I'll understand if you'd rather not."

Draco pulled back from their embrace enough so that Harry could see his face. He had that determined, slightly mulish expression that Harry knew best from face-offs before a quidditch match.

"Can you even hear yourself?" he said, rolling his eyes. "Since when have I ever run from a challenge involving you?"

Harry couldn't help a small smile at that.

"Good point. I suppose you're right. But really, Draco. You don't have to feel obligated."

"I won't. I promise. The second you start behaving like a disgusting Gryffindor martyr, I'll leave you at the mercy of Kreacher and the Weasleys."

Harry couldn't help it. He chuckled. Draco smiled, a slightly smug, but genuinely happy little smile that did weird things to Harry's stomach. He reached up and brushed his lips lightly over Draco's. The smile broadened. Harry deepened the kiss. The door flew open, and Ron burst in.

"Harry, mate! How are y-... oh! Right! Hello again**,** Malfoy."

"Weasley."

"Ron! What are you doing here? Not that it isn't nice to see you. But shouldn't you be rounding up dark wizards?"

"That's exactly why I'm here. We got him. We finally got Selwynn. He was just strolling through Diagon, like he hadn't a care in the world."

"That's brilliant**,** Ron!"

"Yes. Really! Congratulations, Weasley!"

"Yeah, thanks. The only problem is, he isn't really one of the fastest brooms in the shed at the moment."

Harry felt a rush of reliefand felt Draco sag down beside him.

"What do you mean, 'he isn't one of the fastest brooms in the shed?'"

"He makes Lockhart look like a genius. It's obvious that he's been obliviated. Badly. He's being examined by a team from the Janus Thickey ward right now."

"Who's looking after the crime scene? Are there witnesses?"

"Persephone is securing the scene and looking for witnesses. Jackson is taking care of the apprehended suspects from the Manor, as well as Selwynn. And Malfoy has been helping me go through the Manor wards. It seems like they haven't been breached."

"Okay. I... I don't know how much Hermione's told you... But it looks like you'll be in charge for a while."

"She mentioned it. But mate, just because you're not up for casting curses, doesn't mean I have to take over. You'll just have to do my share of paperwork, and I'll handle the fieldwork."

Harry knew that Ron meant what he said, and it made him feel... somewhat better about everything. Then Draco spoke up.

"Weasley's right, Harry. You don't have to give up everything just because your magic is a little unstable at the moment. It's only temporary. And magic isn't everything, you know. Muggles do perfectly well without it."

Harry was somewhat used to Draco making offhanded pro-muggle statements by now, but Ron was visibly picking his jaw up off the floor, while muttering under his breath. "_Muggles do perfectly well without it_," he said. "Who are you, and what have you done with Malfoy?"

"Believe me, Weasley, after the war, when I had time for a closer inspection, I didn't like him much better than you lot had always seemed to, so I decided to replace him with a somewhat updated version. My name is Draco." He held out his hand and Ron shook it, looking somewhat dazed.

"Oh. Okay then. I'm... Ron," he said, before turning to Harry with a slightly panicked smile.

"So, Harry. When do you think you can get out of here? I could really use your help." He turned back to Draco. "Yours too, Malf- Draco. You could work with Harry at HQ. We need to find out how the wards were bypassed, and maybe you could help him with his magic."

"Ron! Listen to me. I can't run an investigation if I can't do magic! You're a great Auror. I really need you to take the lead on this. I'll help as much as I can, even if it means doing your bloody paperwork. And of course I'll work on the Manor wards with Draco. But I need you to take over with this. Please, Ron! I really, really don't want Robards to turn the division over to one of the hit wizards or some creepy Unspeakable!"

"Okay, Harry. I'll do it. But please**,** come in to the office as soon as you feel up to it. I'd better run. I have a crime scene to see to."

"ThanksRon. I'll come by as soon as I get out of here. Healer Marigold said I'll be home by noon today."

Ron turned back with one hand already on the doorknob.

"See you later, Harry." With a wry smile he added**,** "It was good to meet you, Draco."

Harry gave him a left-handed wave at the same time as Draco sent him one of his trademark smirks.

The buzz of voices briefly subsided when Harry and Draco walked into the DMLE. They both ignored it and kept walking towards the conference room.

The large table was littered with papers. Maps, case files, notes and photos of suspects were scattered around, with Muggle Post-it notes adding festive yellow dots. Ron was sitting in one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs, with his elbows on the table, and his head propped in his hands. His hair looked as if he had been raking his hands through it in frustration, and he was staring vacantly at a photo of Selwynn.

"All right, Ron?"

"Oh! Hi, Harry. Draco. I just... I have a feeling I'm missing something here. There's something about this that doesn't add up. I just can't pinpoint exactly what it is."

Harry sagged down in one of the chairs, and when Draco hesitated**,** he smiled and reached out to drag him down beside him. He intertwined his fingers with Draco's and kept them resting lightly on his thigh.

"Let's think out loud, then. We'll start with Selwynn. What've you got so far?"

They'd done this loads of times. Usually late at night in their office, or at the Leaky, having a pint of butterbeer, when a case seemed impossible to solve. Ron would say whatever came to mind about the case, and Harry would look for a pattern, or something they'd missed. Then they'd switch and Harry would think out loud**,** while Ron looked for patterns and missing links.

"Right! Selwynn was released a few weeks before Christmas. He wasn't allowed a wand, and he had a Trace on him. He must have found a way to bypass it, because it hasn't gone off, so we can't use it to track him. He moved in with his auntand got a job, washing dishes at the local pub. He seemed to be doing well, settling into life outside of Azkaban and keeping out of trouble. Then on Christmas Eve, he orchestrated an attack on Malfoy Manor. And Christmas Day, less than twenty-four hours after the first attack, he disappeared after leaving the pub with a mate. He then resurfaced yesterday, about five hours after the second attack, without any memories of the last decade."

Harry sighed. There were too many loose ends, too much they didn't know.

"Okay. What are the odds of him regaining his memory?"

"The healers say it's not looking very likely. At least not on the short-term. It could be years before he even remembers who he is."

"So it's no use, trying to get a Pensieve memory from him?"

Ron shook his head.

"What about the perpetrators from the second attack? Have they given memories?"

"Yeah, they have. I was waiting for you so we could watch them together." Ron gestured to the corner of the room, where a Pensieve had been propped up on a side table.

"Let's do it, then. Draco, do you want to come along? We're not really supposed to let civilians, but you might see something that we don't, since it's your home."

"If you're sure it's not going to cause trouble, then yes. I would like to see them."

Harry took the vials and unstopped them. He instinctively grabbed for his wand, but the pain in his arm reminded him that he couldn't use it. Ron sawand pulled out the memories, before placing them in the Pensieve. Harry went to stand on the other side of the table, and Draco followed him, standing close, shoulders touching. Draco grabbed his left hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Ready?" Ron said. "On three."

Harry took a deep breath and felt Draco do the same. Then he plunged his head into the swirling liquid.

_The two men were walking side by side along a snow-covered road. They were looking straight ahead and their pace was slow, hesitant, almost sleepy. Suddenly, Selwynn appeared a few paces behind them, shimmering slightly_ _as the disillusioning charm wore off. His greying hair was pulled back and his clear eyes were alert and taking in the surroundings. When he was certain that no one was near, he stopped his two companions with a flick of his wand. They stood passively_ _as he changed their clothes into black robes and masks, and obediently held out their arms, so he could charm Dark Marks onto them. He then grabbed each of their arms and the world spun away._

_The Manor grounds were frozen and still, the charred remains of the Manor looming off to one side. A high-pitched voice was shouting in the distance. "_Gryffindor wins_!" Selwynn ducked behind the low garden wall and flicked his wand. One of the Imperiused wizards moved forward, a jet of red light shooting from his wand, aiming towards Scorpius. Harry threw himself in front of Draco and Scorpius, and struggled to maintain his shield. Selwynn flicked his wand and sent the second wizard forward, before Disapparating._

Harry emerged from the Pensieve a fraction of a second later than Ron, but before Draco. They were all gasping for air. Ron looked a bit sick, and Draco was pale.

"Fuck! Bloody buggering fuck!" Draco slammed his fist down on the table. "They were aiming for Scorpius. It happened so quickly, I didn't see at the time, but that bastard was trying to kill my son."

"He's just a kid. The same age as Rosie," Ron muttered.

"Draco! Calm down, Draco. We need to analyse this. Did you see anything else?"

"I... Yes. I'm sorry. I did notice that he was moving differently..."

"What do you mean?"

"Back then... during the war," Draco whispered, shooting Ron a weary glance, "when we were ordered out on raids, Selwynn always seemed slow. Clumsy. He was punished afterwards, usually with a Cruciatus ranted and raved about the importance of being quick and stealthy. Like a snake**,** he said. Sometimes he used Nagini for the punishments. She would wind herself around... the one who was being punished, squeezing until you saw black spots and gasped for air." Draco looked even worse than before, and Harry wanted nothing more than to put his arms around him and draw him into a comforting hug. He settled for placing a hand on his back, rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades. Draco shot him a small smile, and continued. "This man, from the memory, moved gracefully and he clearly knew how to stay hidden."

"This man? You don't think it's the same person that you used to know?" Ron asked.

"I... can't be sure. I could just be confused. He was wearing a Muggle suit. He looked more like an accountant or a solicitor than a Death Eater." Draco shrugged.

"Okay. Those are important observations. Thank you," Ron said. "Harry, did you notice anything?"

"He Apparated inside the Manor wardsthis time. That's different. Last time, he just touched his Mark to the front gate, and it swung open."

"Yeah, I noticed. I think it's because of the added wards. A Dark Mark wouldn't be enough to grant you entrance anymore," Ron said.

"But he did gain entrance. How did he do that? You're not supposed to be able to just Apparate onto a crime scene, unless you're cleared by the DMLE," Harry said. He took off his glasses and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "Why the hell is this bloke giving us so many mixed signals? Fuck, my arm hurts!"

"Mixed signals..." Draco said slowly. "What if the signals are mixed, because we're not actually looking at Selwynn?"

Ron looked up sharply. "What do you mean?"

"What if it's not Selwynn? What if it's someone posing as him? Using Polyjuice. Someone with a grudge against me, but from the winning side. Someone with a DMLE clearance."

"Bloody hell, Malfoy! Sorry, I mean Draco. That's one huge conspiracy theory you've got there! On the other hand... it would explain some very important points." Ron looked a little awed.

"This is great," Harry sighed. "Except for one thing. We can't ask Selwynn if he acted on his own, or if he actually acted at all, because his memory is as dodgy as a 150 year old witch's."

Ron and Draco exchanged a look and said in unison, "Legilimency."

"Legilimency?" Harry asked. He was a little disturbed at the thought of Ron and Draco being in agreement, but he felt a flutter of something deep in his stomach at the idea of them getting along.

"Yeah, it works sometimes, with people suffering from dementia. It's not unheard of, in the old families**,** that you have to Legilimise a relative who's gone a bit... wonky in the head. We had to do it to Great-Aunt Muriel, last year, because she'd misplaced her wand, and we couldn't summonit."

Draco nodded. "I remember when I was younger, my father had to do it to my granny. She'd forgotten where she put the deeds to the Manor. And of course they had anti-Summoning charms on them to prevent theft."

"So, you're saying that we should Legilimise Selwynn?"

"We should get it authorised first, of course. But it makes sense," Ron said.

"A Legilimens can uncover memories that are not accessible through the Pensieve, because the person who experienced them doesn't know they're there," Draco said.

"I'll get Hermione down here," Harry sighed. "She has the authority to approve it, and it wouldn't surprise me if she wanted to be the one to do it.

"You want to Legilimise someone who's too fragile to give consent?"

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important! Besides, it was Ron's idea to begin with... and Draco's. But I agree! It's the best way to gain the information we need."

"I don't know**,** Harry. It's hardly ethical!"

"Hermione," Ron said. "If we're right, then the real perpetrator is still out there. And he was going straight for Scorpius. He's the same age as Rosie."

Harry could see Hermione's frown soften.

"I'll allow it, then. But only if I'm the one to do it." She turned and looked at Draco, explaining, "I trained as a Legilimens when I was working in the Department of Mysteries. This way I can make sure that nothing untoward happens."

Harry sat in his desk chair and followed Draco's movements with his eyes. He was pacing from the enchanted window in Harry's office, to the door, and back to the window. The same six, carefully measured steps, then an exact turn and six steps in the other direction. Again and again. It had been almost an hour since Ron and Hermione had gone down to level nine. Finally**,** a scarlet paper aeroplane with the word _confidential _written on the side in black calligraphy, zoomed into the office and landed on his desk. He jabbed it with his wand, a lot more clumsy than usual, and muttered his name, and the aeroplane unfolded.

H,

D was right. Send Andromeda and the kids somewhere safe. R suggests The Burrow. Don't tell anyone else. It was an inside job. We'll meet you in my office in half an hour. Use the Cloak.

H

When they burst into Hermione's roomy office, Ron and Hermione were already there, waiting. Ron had made himself at home in one of the comfortable chairs arranged around a low table, and Hermione was at her desk, writing up notes. Harry yanked the Cloak off themas soon as the door was closed.

"What happened?"

"Like I said, it was an inside job," Ron said. His mouth was set in a grim line, and his eyes were narrowed.

"An Auror?!"

"No," Hermione cut in. "But someone with a DMLE clearance. I'll show you." She gestured to a small Pensieve on the bookshelf behind her.

_Selwynn's solicitor was waiting on the small pier, where the boats from Azkaban landed. As the small vessel approached the shore, he could see the man in clearer detail. His blond hair was whipped forward by the wind and obscured his face. He was dressed smartly in well-fitting robes over a Muggle suit, and he was carrying a briefcase in one hand. Wolfric looked down to where his filthy hands were grabbing the railing on the small boat. His ragged robes were wet with the waves that crashed over the side. The boat finally came to a stop alongside the pier, and an arm was extended to him. He grasped it without hesitance, eager to get away from the sea._

"_Welcome back, Mr Selwynn."_

"_Thank you, Sir."_

_The young man Apparated them away, with a hand on Selwynn's shoulder._

_The pub was almost empty, but it didn't make sense to go home. His aunt would be halfway through her bottle of gin by now, he suspected. He got himself a pint of butterbeer and sat down at the bar, when someone clapped a hand to his shoulder._

"_Wolfie!"_

_Wolfric turned around and smiled._

"_Dennis!"_

For the second time that day, Harry broke the surface of the Pensieve, gasping for air. Ron and Hermione were looking at him; Ron still grim and focussed, while Hermione had a worried glint in her eyes.

"_Dennis Creevey?!_"

"Yeah! I know it's hard to believe! He must have been planning this for a long time. He had the Polyjuice ready. All he needed was Selwynn's hair."

"But why?"

"It was hard to tell, from the memories," Hermione said. "But this past month, he's held Selwynn captive at his home. He would rant at him sometimes, about the Malfoys, and how Draco had come out of the war without any punishment at all. He would talk about Colin, and how Draco deserved to have the one he loved most taken away from him. He's emotionally unstable, obviously."

"Obviously," Harry muttered darkly.

Ron cleared his throat.

"I should get back to DMLE. I'll get Persephone and Jackson, and we'll bring Dennis in."

"Yes," Hermione said**,** and stood. "Make sure you have a mind healer on standby. He's clearly not himself. I'll go and tell Kingsley and Robards."

As soon as the door closed behind them with a soft thud, Harry saw Draco sink into one of the chairs. He rested his elbows on his knees, and leaned forward to cradle his head in his hands.

"I can't believe it," he whispered. "Will it ever just fucking stop?"

Harry moved to sit at the arm of Draco's chair, and reached behind him to rest his good hand on his shoulder**.** He hoped that Draco would take it for the comfort it was meant as, as well as writing it off as a means of balance, if he wanted to.

"Yes, Draco. I think it will. I look at Teddy and I know that even though he's lost so much, to him the war is history. It's something that happened to other people."

"I know it's selfish, but I just want to live my life. We were sixteen when Dumbledore died. Seventeen at the Battle of Hogwarts. But it's defined our life ever since. And I just want it to stop!"

Draco wasn't sobbing. Not exactly. But there was a hitch in his voice that meant that he was holding back tears, and Harry's heart clenched in sympathy. Draco was such a proud man. After the war, he had taken the ruins of his life and fought to build something authentic. And now he was slumped over, crying in Hermione's office, no fight left in him at all. Harry had no idea what to say to him. He felt more helpless and tongue-tied than ever. He used the hand on Draco's shoulder to guide him closer, until he was leaning against his side.

"We all did terrible things during the war. At least _you_ never killed anybody."

"Not for lack of trying..."

"But that's not entirely true, is it? You may have come fairly close with Dumbledore... but you didn't. In the end, you _didn't.._."

"Harry? You can't be serious? Do you actually feel _guilty _about killing Voldemort?"

The look on Draco's face was so incredulous**,** Harry couldn't help smiling, even as he struggled to explain something he'd never spoken of before. Not even to his friends. "No... yes... no. I don't feel guilty, exactly. But sometimes I get angry. He had it coming, I know he did. But... he was always trying to make me doubt myself. Trying to convince me that I was a Dark wizard. And in a way**,** he succeeded, didn't he? When I disarmed him and he died, he made me a killer, even though I never wanted to be one."

"He did that to a lot of people, Harry. He tried to do it to me. It's just what he did... he corrupted people's souls."

"I know. I just think... sometimes I think it would have been easier, if he'd been brought to justice and received the Kiss. I mean: the work Kingsley and Hermione are doing is so important. And they always want me to speak out for them. But how can I help clean up the corruption and abuse of power in the Ministry, when I killed someone, without a fair trial?"

Draco just shook his head. "You're hopeless, Harry! You and your Gryffindor complexes. You're too inherently _good _to be a Dark wizard, even if you wanted to be. You lack the ruthlessness. Let alone the brain."

That startled a small laugh out of him, and he summoned the courage to lean down and press a gentle kiss to Draco's smiling mouth. He could feel the smile grow wider under his lips, and the kiss seemed to take on a life of its own. It started off comforting, reassuring, but soon evolved into something more primal. Harry could feel all the tension from the last month draining away as he slowly let himself go pliant, melting into Draco's touch and letting him take control with slow, languid kisses and whispered words. He moved to straddle Draco, and felt his hardening cock against his thigh. He leaned in and ground down experimentally, tearing a downright filthy moan from Draco's throat.

"Please Harry... Please!"

"Yeah! I've got you. Need you to touch me**,** Draco. Please!"

After that it was a blur of hands and kisses and _hot! fast! please! more! Yes!_ Until Draco arched up against him and moaned his release, while giving Harry's cock one last, firm stroke, before he too tumbled over the edge, muffling a shout by burying his head in Draco's shoulder.

Several minutes later, warm and gentle hands were still stroking over his back, and Draco was sagging against him, still whispering praise and filthy words into his mouth, when the muffled sound of voices and footsteps passing in the corridor reminded Harry where they were.

"Let's get out of here," he muttered against Draco's lips.

Draco nodded and his hands stilled on Harry's back, then fell away completely.

"Yeah. I think I need to see for myself that Scorpius is safe."

Oh! Scorpius! Harry could feel himself flushing. He reluctantly pulled away from Draco's mouth and hands, and the air in the office suddenly felt cold on his overheated skin. He'd almost forgotten. He was such a selfish git, wanting Draco to himself, when the man's only child had been attacked. He drew himself up from the chair, wondering when he had ended up practically sitting in Draco's lap, and nodded.

"We can Floo to the Burrow and pick him up, then Apparate from there. We'll bring Teddy along too. I want to spend some time with him," he said over his shoulder, already walking towards the door.

He was reaching for the doorknob, when he felt a hand on his shoulder, tugging gently and turning him around, so he had his back against the door and Draco was leaning in, pressing lightly against his front.

"Harry! Please wait. I want to continue this! I... I want so much more! Just, not in an armchair at the Ministry. I want to have all the time in the world to do this with you. To make you feel like I'm all you'll ever need. Because that's... how I feel about you. Just, please. Let's go home, make sure the kids are all right, hug them and get them to bed. And then we'll have all night."

Draco leaned in further, resting his forehead against his, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. Harry could feel the slow smile spreading, getting so big it almost hurt his cheeks.

"Yeah. Let's go home."

Eleven months later

"Da-ad! When can I open my presents?" Five-year-old Scorpius couldn't quite keep the whine out of his voice.

"As soon as Aunt Andromeda gets here." He heard Harry's weary answer from the dining room.

"Don't worry, she'll be here any minute now." Teddy added. He had flung himself sideways into an armchair, with both knees hooked over one armrest and his head resting on the other one. He closed Harry's old copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages _with a soft thump, wrapped his new Ravenclaw scarf around his neck, and held out a hand to his younger cousin. "Come on, let's go down to the kitchen and see if Kreacher and Flimby have a biscuit to spare."

"Can we pretend to be hit wizards and sneak up on them?"

"Sure. Or I'll try to distract them and then you can sneak up and snatch the whole tin. Then we'll hide and share the booty like pirates!"

Their voices trailed off as they disappeared down the stairs, plotting.

They had come a long way since last Christmas, Draco thought. Scorpius had gained another father and Draco had found a partner who was snarky and funny and messy. And, oddly, almost as disgustingly perfect as the _Daily Prophet_ made him out to be. At some time during the year, Grimmauld Place had started to feel like a home, warmer and more welcoming than the Manor had ever been, though he suspected that to be because of the inhabitants, more than the house itself. He scooted closer to Harry on the sofa and snuggled into his side. He put his head on his partner's shoulder and placed a small kiss below his ear, earning a quick kiss on top of his head and a happy sigh.

All was well.


End file.
